


Beyond the Most Distant Star

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alien Abduction, Alien!Ryan, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Anxiety, Background Jen Ruggirello, M/M, Rating May Change, Ryan is a bigger nerd, Shane is a nerd, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ‘You’re kidding, right?’‘No, I’m very serious.’Shane groans. If this is one of those weird, lucid dreams then he’s not having it. ‘Jesus Christ, how much did I drink last night?’ He’d remember signing up to something this bizarre, right?‘My name isn’t Jesus Christ. You can call me Ryan.’Shane starts to stand. ‘OK, Ryan, I’m Shane. And I’m fine now. I’m gonna head out.’ What he needs is to get home, turn on Netflix and cuddle with his cat. Today was meant to be his day off.‘But I wanted to ask you some questions first! Your physiology is fascinating.’Shane stops. ‘You want what now?’Or:five times Shane gets abducted by a cute alien.





	1. A Close Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from Starlight Brigade by TWRP and Dan Avidan.
> 
> this fic was meant to be like 5000 words, but once i started writing i kind of just kept going. i kind of abandoned my other alien au. sorry? writing it stopped being fun but trust me, this was so much fun to write.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time it happens, Shane is irritatingly sceptical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm kind of abandoning my other fic. sorry? writing it stopped being fun for me, but writing this fic was extremely fun. the original draft of the fic was like 5000 words and this chapter, uh, it got away from me.

When Shane wakes up he knows something’s wrong. He’s fully clothed, shoes and all, which isn’t the most outlandish way he’s ever woken up. In fact, it’s not that far outside of the realm of possibilities, especially considering what he’d gotten up to last night. What is weird is the fact that he isn’t hungover. The night before, he’d drank enough to regret it. His head should be splitting. Instead, it’s clear.

He tilts his head and it sinks into the pillow. It’s a far cry from the cheap, firm pillow he himself owns. This one could be goosefeather. He sits up and reaches out for his phone, only for his hand to hit a wall.

‘Ow, shit,’ he grumbles. Now, he knows for a fact that his own bed is in the centre of the room, free of any nearby hand-hitting debris. By contrast, this bed is right next to a wall. He doubts his past, drunk self had decided to do some redecorating. Wherever he is, it’s not home.

Before he can get out of bed, the door opens. There’s a mechanical whir as it slides into the wall. The lights turn on and a person steps inside. For the first time in his life, Shane’s glad to have fallen asleep fully clothed. A man steps inside. He’s about a head shorter than Shane, with a mess of black hair and a pair of wide, brown eyes. What really catches Shane’s eye, though, is his clothes. He’s wearing a grey shirt and pants, both of which are covered in pulsating green lights. They kind of remind him of the outfits the aliens in The Sims wear. There’s a very real chance he’s been kidnapped by some deranged cosplayer.

‘Hello?’ Says Shane. Despite the lack of a hangover, he’s still groggy. His mouth feels like it's full of cotton.

Upon hearing Shane’s voice, the man brightens up, and he exclaims, ‘I can understand you!’

‘Where the fuck am I?’

He’s not in the hospital. The room isn’t sterile enough for that. The walls are light blue, covered in little panels and things. On the other side of the room is another, empty bed. In between is a glass-top table covered in blinking lights. It reminds him of a doctor’s office, albeit a futuristic one.

Undeterred by Shane’s tone, the guy says, ‘Right now you’re in the med bay. You were in pretty bad shape when I found you, but you're OK now,' he lets out a nervous laugh, 'Thank the stars the translator is working. I really didn’t want to have this conversation with some poor, confused person.’ He steps up to the table and presses a few buttons. The text is in a language Shane doesn’t recognise. He wants to protest that he most certainly is not a poor, confused person, then realises that, yes, yes he is.

Shane presses his palms to his eyes, takes a deep breath and counts to ten. When he looks up the guy is staring at him, and he still- wherever he is. The only time he’s ever heard the term ‘med bay’ is in generic sci-fi, and this guy’s throwing it around like it’s a thing you hear everyday. He feels frazzled. If there was ever a time in his life where the word ‘frazzled’ applied, it’s now.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘No, I’m very serious.’

Shane groans. If this is one of those weird, lucid dreams then he’s not having it. ‘Jesus Christ, how much did I drink last night?’ He’d remember signing up to something this bizarre.

‘My name isn’t Jesus Christ. You can call me Ryan.’

Shane starts to stand. ‘OK, Ryan, I’m Shane. And I’m fine now. I’m gonna head out.’ All he wants to do is get home, turn on Netflix and cuddle with his cat. Today was meant to be his day off.

‘But I wanted to ask you some questions first! Your physiology is fascinating. I have so many questions.’

Shane stops. ‘You want what now?’ Shane knows he’s seen too many movies, because the first thing that comes to mind is a twisted, serial killer scenario. Has he been _Hostel_ -ed? Is this guy going to strap him down, slice him open and sift through his organs? He's cute, but Shane's life isn’t worth it. ‘Did you look at my body while I was asleep?’

Ryan frowns. ‘Not really? I took some scans to make sure you were OK. But you were unconscious, so I mostly left you alone.’

He’s still fully clothed, and it’d be pretty weird if Ryan took his clothes off and then decided to put them back on. He can feel his wallet and keys digging into his thigh, so he hasn’t been mugged. Shane almost cracks a joke about probing, then thinks better of it. Instead, he plays along. ‘Why?'

‘Why what?’

‘Why did you take scans?’

'Like I said, you were inebriated. I thought you’d been poisoned. Where I’m from, those levels of ethanol consumption are considered dangerously high.’

Shane snorts. He hadn’t drank that much. Can’t a guy let loose once in a while without being chastised by a weird cosplayer?

‘What do you mean, where you’re from?’

‘My home planet. There’s strict laws about ethanol-’

Shane cuts him off. ‘Planet?’

'Yes, that is what I-’

The cogs start to turn in Shane’s head. In his defence, it’s whatever-o’clock on a Sunday morning. He wasn’t prepared for any level of intelligent conversation. ‘You’re from space?’

‘Relatively speaking, yes.’

‘So, you’re an alien?’

Ryan sighs, exacerbated, ‘To you I am, yes.’

Shane laughs, a little hysterical. ‘Oh my God. Is this some kind of prank? Did someone pay you to do this?’ He looks around for hidden cameras. Maybe his coworkers did it; picking on the new guy by freaking him out big time. Maybe they’d pooled their collective resources and money. Then later, he’ll become a Twitter moment: ‘Bored Office Workers pull Ultimate Prank on Unsuspecting Victim.’ Where would you even hire a hot, wannabe alien dude? Craigslist?

‘No one paid me. I just wanted to learn about humanity. I thought the best way would be to talk to a human being.’

Shane laughs again, clutching his side. His face is bright red and he looks like an asshole but he can’t find it in him to care. Ryan furrows his brow, agitated. ‘I’m serious! This is a purely scientific endeavour. If you really want me to send you back then I can. All I need to power up the transporter.’

‘That’s it, I’m out of here.’ Shane strides past Ryan. The door opens for him. He finds himself out in a corridor. Here, the walls are light grey instead of blue. If he’s on a set, then it’s elaborate. He turns left and starts walking.

‘Excuse me, you’re going the wrong way!’

Shane ignores him. The guy’s either crazy or a paid actor. His money is on the latter. Crazy people don’t just build shit like this. He follows the corridor as it snakes right. At the end is a single door. There’s a sign fixed to it in that same, unfamiliar alphabet. Like the first door, this one slides open for him. He takes a few steps into the room before freezing up.

He’d expected it to be an exit, a way to leave whatever Black Mirror/Twilight Zone/Fire in the Sky situation he’d found himself in. There’s a seating area in from of a single, massive window, stretching from wall to wall. Beyond the window is Earth. Earth, from a distance, surrounded by the vastness of space.

‘This is the observation room.’ Says Ryan. Shane jumps at the voice, but doesn’t look away. He hadn’t heard the man go after him. As corny as it sounds, he’s transfixed by the beauty of it. Swirling white masses of cloud blanket oceans. Landmasses stretch over the curvature, out of sight.

Ryan walks over and stands beside him. ‘I was going to show you later. I’d planned it all out…’

Shane takes a shaky breath. ‘Fuck, this is real, isn’t it?’

‘Of course.’

‘We’re really in space.’ Fuck, he’s shaking.

Ryan puts a reassuring hand on Shane’s shoulder. ‘It can be a lot. I honestly thought you knew. I can take you back whenever you want. Or you could stay for a while. Whatever you want.’

Why does this persuade him? He’s seen the Earth before: in movies and photos. These kinds of things can be faked. The sceptic in him is screaming. For all he knows, this could be some elaborate video set up. This, though, feels tangible. Ryan’s so casual about it. Yeah, this is your planet. No big deal.

Shane reaches up and puts his hand over Ryan’s. He turns to look at the guy — an actual, honest-to-God alien. ‘I think I’ll stay here for a while.’

  


* * *

  


‘Dumb question: if you’re an alien then why do you look human?’

It’s an hour later. Shane’s sitting in the observation room, holding a mug of what he assumes is tea. Space tea. It’s dark blue and smells like citrus. Ryan has his own mug.

The alien smiles. ‘Well, I don’t usually look like this. I chose a form I thought you’d prefer. I thought that if you saw my true form you’d be terrified.’

So he chose a hot human to masquerade as. Cool. Even if this isn’t Ryan’s true body, he‘s still ripped as hell. He could throw Shane around, if he wanted. ‘I probably would have accepted the whole ‘you’re in space’ thing a lot sooner.’

‘Tell me, are all humans as stubborn as you?’

‘Nah, I’m just the worst,’ he takes a sip his tea. ‘Do you abduct a lot of humans?’

Ryan winces. ‘Abduct is a weird way to put it.’

‘Sorry, do you transport a lot of humans and interrogate them about their own bodies?’

‘I wasn’t interrogating you! I really thought you were hurt!’

‘Eh, I feel like abducting random humans off the street is unethical.’

Ryan’s face turns bright red. He sputters out an excuse while Shane watches on, wheezing. ‘I’m joking. No hard feelings, OK? It would have been nice if you asked first but you seem pretty cool.’

‘Thanks? I think.’

‘Why are you even here? Is it for research or something?’

‘Kind of? I was sent here by the Interplanetary Commonwealth to figure out where your planet is at, technology-wise.’

‘The Interplanetary what-now?’

‘It’s a group of planets who all came together to share knowledge and resources. The Commonwealth set up a Council meant to determine which unincorporated civilisations should be contacted.’ Shane's first instinct is to compare it to _Star Trek_. Then, he realises that Ryan will have no idea what that is. He hopes this Commonwealth has less wars than the Federation.

‘So, that's what the Council wants? To talk?’

‘You guys keep sending out signals, so we figured you want to communicate.’

‘I mean, I’m not the expert but the general idea is that we want to find intelligent life. Right now, we’ve got nothing. There’s a lot of humans who think we're straight up alone in the universe. Also, I'm gonna level with you: if a bunch of spaceships fill the skies, everyone’s gonna freak out. It doesn't matter how nice you all are -- people are gonna freak.’

Ryan huffs. ‘We’re not that dumb. If I can figure out how you’d receive us, the Commonwealth can act accordingly. They might even send more researchers out.’

‘We’d receive you badly. Like, end-of-days badly. I’m pretty confident that, as a species, we’re not ready for space travel.’

‘That’s not necessarily a bad thing. We could always come back in the future.’

Shane sighs. Should he tell Ryan about global warming? And nuclear warheads? And late-stage capitalism? If humanity got its hands on advanced alien technology it could only end in chaos.

Ryan continues, ‘I haven’t gathered much information yet. Sociology isn't my strong suit. That’s why I brought you here. I thought- I guess I hoped we could talk?’

Shane wheezes. ‘You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?’

‘N-no, of course not!’

‘I could do that- tell you, about the Earth, I mean. I’m no anthropologist but I could give it a shot. Send me back, give me a few days and I can compile some stuff for you.’ At the thought of leaving, a sudden sense of anxiety overcomes him. He can't leave, knowing everything he does, and not come back. He was picked up by Ryan due to complete, random chance. He doesn't believe in fate, but he does know an opportunity when he sees one. This is the only chance he'll ever get to see the stars.

The look Ryan gives him is, well, it’s fucking heartwarming. ‘Would you really do that for me?’

‘Sure. What do you want to know?’

Ryan leans in a little closer. ‘Everything. I wanna know everything.’

‘I mean, I’d have to get back up here. And I don’t know what it looked like when you abducted me the first time-’

‘I did not abduct you-’

‘But it seems like a pretty bad idea to do it in broad daylight.’ If he got beamed up in, say, his workplace, he’d never hear the end of it. Shane does not want to be That One UFO Guy. He’ll be hounded by third-rate media outlets and UFO-obsessed maniacs for the rest of his life. He’ll have to move to rural New Mexico, grow a beard and become a farmer.

‘Well, there is something I can give you,’ Ryan stands up. ‘Stay here. I’ll be right back.’ With that he leaves the room. Shane’s gaze moves to the window. If there’s anything that - cliche of cliches - could take his breath away, this is it. Earth, forever rotating on its axis. There’s billions of people down there, and none of them have a clue. The ship must be hidden from view somehow. He figures that if Ryan’s species - group of species, whatever - are smart enough to build the ship, they’re also smart enough to keep it hidden.

When Ryan returns he’s holding what looks like necklace: a black chain looped through a silver pendant.

'Fancy. I'm flattered, really.'

'It's a basic communicator. Unfortunately, it’s one way, so you won’t be able to contact me. I’ll give you a signal before I pick you up. When I do, this,' he points to the pendant, ‘will flash a few times.’

‘So I can come back?’

‘Yes, of course you can. You can come here as many times as you’d like.’

Shane can’t keep the grin off his face. ‘That’s- thank you so much. You don’t know what that means to me.’

Ryan unclasps the chain and steps closer to the human. ‘Here, let me.’ Shane is not ready for the, excuse the pun, close encounter. Ryan’s deft fingers ghost across his skin. When he’s fastened the pendant his hands linger. Ryan really does have lovely eyes: the darkest brown, almost blending in to the pupil. His hair looks as if he’s run his hands through it over and over. His lips curl into an easy smile. Shane wonders what Ryan sees when he looks at him. Shane’s self-aware enough to know he’s got a weird, lanky hipster thing going on. Ryan leans in closer. His eyes flicker down for a second, to Shane's lips.

A sudden, distant beeping sound pulls both of them out of their reverie.

Ryan’s moves his hands away and steps back. ‘The transporter is ready.’ With that he takes off. Dazed, Shane follows behind.

The human asks, ‘How long does it take?’

‘It’s instantaneous, though it can feel like it's a lot longer than that.’

They pass through the winding corridor, back the way they came. They pass the med-bay, where Shane had woken up. The human tries to make sense of the text on the door and fails. At the end of the corridor is another door. Beyond it, the corridor continues on, this time with doors lining the sides. Ryan points to the first door. ‘Through here is the eating area,’ he gestures to another, ‘The sleeping quarters are down here too. You won’t be needing those, of course.’ He’s joking, but all Shane’s cursed, goblin brain can make him think is, _‘Yet.’_ ‘Does the whole ship curve like this?’

‘Yes. The ship’s most vital parts are in the centre. Everything you’ll see is in the main body. If your kept walking in one direction you'd find yourself back here eventually,’ He stops in front of a door and it opens automatically. Shane follows the alien inside. The room is small, with a few machines at waist-level in one corner, and a large dais in the centre. ‘If you can just step up there…’ Ryan drifts over to the control panel. Shane obliges and stands in the middle.

‘So I just, uh, stand here?’

Without looking up, Ryan replies, ‘Yeah. Try not to move to much.’

‘Wait, when are you picking me up?’ Fuck, they’re both bad at this.

‘In about a week? Will that be enough time?’

‘Yeah, that’s- that’ll be just fine.’

A week to pull together as much information about the human race as he can. He’s fairly certain Ryan won’t use it to plan an invasion. If he does, Shane wants to at least get laid first. And well, he _kind of_ got the guy's number. Sort of.

Ryan turns to look at him, smiling. ‘OK, it’s ready.’

‘Goodbye. Same time, next week?’

'It’s a date.’

Shane swears he sees Ryan wink. Suddenly the human is engulfed in a bright white light. He’s weightless, drifting. His entire body tingles. He gets the sense that he’s, moving, though wherever the hell he is, he has no idea. Space, he supposes.Then, everything is dark.

  


He wakes up in his living room which is where, he realises, his drunk-self had passed out. He’s back in his living room. Everything is as it should be: normal; typical. For a single, fleeting moment, he thinks it might have all been a weird, vivid dream. A jolt of panic runs through him, and he feels nauseous. To have something- someone- so interesting at his fingertips, only for them to be snatched away. He wouldn’t put it past his own brain to do something so cruel.

Then he looks down. The pendant catches the light and glints. He breathes a shaky sigh of relief, then smiles.


	2. Anthropology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Earlier that day, Shane, nerd that he is, borrowed book on anatomy from the local library. Ryan will get a kick out of reading them and, more importantly, he won’t have to rely on Shane’s shoddy knowledge of the human body. He’s fairly certain that it won’t turn into a ‘To Serve Man’ situation — unless he wakes up to find Ryan lightly seasoning him with salt. He’s too stringy, anyway._  
>   
>  shane has a mild existential crisis and ryan doesn't understand what mammals are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, my mental health is bad at the moment. keep those lovely comments coming, please.
> 
> ps: thank you for all the hits!

How do you teach an alien about Earth? About humanity? Where the fuck do you even start? Shane's handed himself the ultimate sociological project. No pressure. He figures that Ryan’s knowledge of humanity is scatter-shot at best. It’d help if he could just ask Ryan about what he does and doesn’t know: _‘Do you know what a hierarchy is? Do you have a prison system on your home planet? Does your species go to war?’_ Fuck, why didn’t he ask when he had the chance? He spent all that time staring down at the Earth when he could have been learning things no one else on the fucking planet knows. He is the only human being (as far as he’s aware) on the planet who’s had contact with extraterrestrial life. That’s the kind of thing you’d tell your hypothetical grandkids — right before they send you to a nursing home.

Shane’s always believed in extraterrestrial life. When he was a kid he believed all of those madcap UFO stories. As he got older, he saw them for what they were: fanciful tales meant to garner attention, money and fame. However, he never stopped believing that there could be life beyond the stars. He prides himself on trusting facts, supported by evidence. He’s never seen any solid proof of alien life, until now. Ryan is exactly that: living, breathing proof.

Ryan drops him off in the middle of the afternoon, and as soon as he wakes up, he knows exactly what he needs to do. He feeds Obi, makes himself a pot of coffee, then opens up a slideshow on his laptop. He wants to include as much as he can as concisely as possible, and powerpoint's formatting will stop him from droning on for too long.

He trawls through Wikipedia, making notes on the basics of human history: agriculture, the development of city states, money, that kind of thing. Like any history buff, he immediately falls into a tangent. Then another. Whatever — he can edit this all later. He spends the rest of the day in this mono-focused state, riding a caffeine high. If Ryan wants to learn about humanity, then by God is Shane going to teach him.

  


***  


There's a low buzz of chatter, punctuated by the occasional laugh. Shane's cubicle is right next to the printer, and the grating sound of the machine has long since turned to background noise. The frustrated cursing of people failing to use it correctly, however, did not. He feels a little giddy. None of them know. For everyone else, their weekend was typical. Maybe they did some chores, maybe they hands some drinks. 

Shane stands up, stretches, then sits back down. As he does, the pendant bounces against his chest. He keeps the gift on at all times, except when he showers. Surprising no one, Shane hates his job. He’d rather be doing anything other than sitting in his god-awful cubicle, staring at endless spreadsheets of information. He reminds himself, _‘aliens are real. They’re fucking real and you’ve met one.’_ He’s never felt so lucky in his entire life. That thought sees him through the day. For a while, it lets him forget where he is.

  


Something gently hits his head and bounces onto the desk. He looks over to see a folded up post-it note. He unfolds it. On one side, written in neat, looping handwriting is a message:

  


_Emails don’t count as work :)_

  


He wheezes, then scoots his chair backwards to the edge of the cubicle. He peers into the one next to him and says, ‘Neither is spying.'

The woman, Jen, turns around and snorts. ‘Ah shit, you got me.’

In response he scrunches up the post-it and throws it at her.

With the cubicle-desk layout of the office, it’s all too easy to spend hours alone. On top of that, Shane hates small talk in all its forms, so it’s not like he’s made friend with an awful lot of his colleagues. In fact, he has one: Jen. That’s a fact that makes his stomach twinge when he thinks about it too much. He’s a fully grown man: if he can breeze through an interview then why the hell can’t he make friends? It’s like high school all over again — except with legal alcohol consumption and divorces.

Jen stretches, arching her back. ‘God, I’m starving. Wanna get lunch?’

‘Sure. Let me just finish writing this very important document.’

He’s been at the company for about two months, and since day one Jen has gone out of her way to be his friend. They have lunch together almost everyday; it’s the kind of event that helps to break up the monotony of endless spreadsheets and emails. Also, it forced Shane to start making his own lunches (he won’t be shamed by being caught with store bought sandwiches).

Early on, he spied the small rainbow flag pinned to the weird, fuzzy fabric of her cubicle wall. She jokes about warding off unwanted men, and he tells her to send those men her way — the cute ones, at least. After that, she started inviting him out for drinks. He’s not the kind of guy who feels the need to fly his pride flag with, well, pride, but it’s nice to have some solidarity.

They commandeer a couch in the breakroom (the place has so man fridges. It’s one of the few things Shane likes about his workplace). While they eat, Jen asks, ‘So, get up to anything fun this weekend?’

For a fleeting moment, Shane considers telling her about everything. He wants to show her the pendant, and gush about the cute guy he got to spend hours talking to. He doesn’t, of course. She’d write him off as a crazy bastard and never invite him to lunch or drinks. Fuck that. 

He shrugs. 'Not really, no.’

‘Same. Oh, I did get invited to a slam poetry evening.’

‘Oh God.’

‘I didn’t go. I Googled the address and It was in a warehouse. Like, an actual warehouse. It was either slam poetry or a murder-hole.’

‘Maybe it was both? You get horribly murdered while someone recites some, uh- some C. F. Cavafy.’

She chuckles. ‘I don’t think he was the slam poet type.’

‘I’m glad that we both had boring weekends. I don’t want to be the only lonely guy here.’ He means it as a joke, but she gives him a look of concern.

‘Are you lonely?’

It’s like he's been drenched in ice water. The answer is obvious, and he wants to scream it. He can’t look Jen in the eye. His hand trembles as he replies, ‘No.’ Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her staring. After that, neither of them have much else to say.

  


***  


The rest of the week passes him by. It’s more of the same. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets and more spreadsheets; responses to emails that really could have been done face-to-face; agonising small talk with Karen from HR, which, if he let it go on for long enough, would turn into unsubtle, one-sided flirting. Maybe he should invest in a pride flag. Sometimes, he can see Jen peering over her cubicle, watching with glee as he squirms. The only thing that breaks up the monotony is the though of Ryan and the prospect of seeing him again.

It's Wednesday afternoon when he cracks and opens the presentation during work. It's a slow day, no one's expecting much from him. If anyone asks, he can say he got pulled into some side-project. He works on it for hours, then does the same thing the next day. No on catches him - no one pulls him aside and asks what the fuck he's doing, wasting the company's time. In an odd way, it's kind of thrilling; the prospect of being discovered makes him work faster.

On Friday, Jen invites him out for drinks. His first instinct is to say no. He’s got a weird social studies project to work on. Plus, there’s the fact that the last time he said yes, he ended up being surrounded by strangers. Well, fellow colleagues that he’d deigned to introduce himself to. Despite that, he agrees to join her. After all, the last time he said yes, he’d gotten abducted by an attractive alien. The night can lead you in some interesting directions.

When Shane gets to the bar, he’s greeted by Jen, along with half a dozen unfamiliar faces. They all cram into a booth together. He chats to some guy - his name is either Greg of Garret - about a new, terrible horror movie they’ve both seen. He can’t help feeling all to aware of his own awkwardness. He knows that, logically, he’s probably doing fine, that this guy - whatever his fucking name is - doesn’t give a shit. But still. He resolves to deal with it by getting drunk.

A couple of rounds in and this method proves to be successful. He’s loose enough that he throws caution to the wind and takes out the pendant. Jen eyes it and remarks, ‘You know, I didn’t take you for a jewelry kinda guy.’

Shane wheezes. 'What kind of guy did you take me for?'

Jen shrugs then takes a sip of her beer. ‘It’s just a little flashy, ‘s all.’

‘Huh? He shoots up. He grabs the pendant and inspects it. No flashes. Nothing.

‘You OK?’

‘Yeah, I just...nevermind.’ He tries to steady his nerve, It’s dumb. It’s...it’s silly. Ryan would tell him if he was going to pick him up early, right? Well, he has no way of informing Shane, but he wouldn’t spring it on him, right? The only thing worse than being abducted at work would be being abducted in a busy bar. He would be be all over the news. Maybe they’ll call him Flashman. He giggles and leans his head back again.

Jen smirks, sliding his beer away from him, ‘I’m cutting you off, Madej.’

  


***  


‘Obi, boy, no.’

Obi looks up at Shane from his spot on Shane’s laptop. He meows. Shane shakes his head. The smug little bastard. It’s Saturday night. By Shane’s account, Ryan will pick him up in a few hours. The presentation is more or less finished. The last thing he needs is his goblin son fucking it up. Much to the cat’s dismay, he gently shoves the disgruntled feline off of the laptop.

Earlier that day, Shane, nerd that he is, borrowed book on anatomy from the local library. Ryan will get a kick out of reading them and, more importantly, he won’t have to rely on Shane’s shoddy knowledge of the human body. He’s fairly certain that it won’t turn into a ‘To Serve Man’ situation — unless he wakes up to find Ryan lightly seasoning him with salt. He’s too stringy, anyway.

He doesn't bother clearing his bed before he bunks down. It'll be a short nap...

Shane expects to wake up to Obi’s incessant meowing. He loves to scream at Shane for food and pets first thing in the morning. It takes Shane a moment to realise that, a) there’s no cat trampling over him and, b) he’s clutching his laptop like a hot-water bottle. It’s a miracle he didn’t drop it or roll onto it in the night. When he opens his eyes, he’s back in the med-bay. Ryan’s in the corner of the room, facing away from him, fiddling with some gadget. Good God, he’s glad he wears pyjamas. 

He sits up and yawns.

Ryan yelps in surprise and rushes over, ‘Are you OK? Are you hurt?’

‘Good morning to you too.’

He checks the table beside the bed. ‘That noise, is that- it that normal?’

‘Yeah. Dude, I was yawning. You woke me up.’ Yawning is not one of the 800 topics included in his powerpoint presentation. He looks around the bed, then asks, ‘When you beamed me up, did I have a book with me? It’s about,’ he gestures with his hands, ‘this big? Hardback? Uh, full of text?’

Ryan, still a little frazzled, heads over to the spare bed and brings back the book.

Shane looks down at his laptop. ‘Why did you take the book and not this?’

‘I thought that this was more interesting. I've never seen one before. My translator is struggling with the text, though.’

At that moment, Shane’s stomach rumbles, and Ryan almost drops the book. ‘Was that normal?’

Shane wheezes. ‘Yeah, I promise. I’m just really hungry. I haven’t had breakfast yet.’

‘Is breakfast important?’

‘It’s the most important meal of the day.’ He chooses to omit the fact that his breakfast is usually nothing more than a cup of coffee.

Ryan’s eyes widen. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What do you need to eat for it? What’s the etiquette?’

Shane’s already regretting his choice of words. ‘Actually...what kind of food do you even have on here?’

  


***

  


‘Are you sure?’ Asks Ryan. He drums his fingers against the anatomy book, which is tucked under his armpit. Shane can sense the incoming questions. It’s a matter of ‘when’, rather than ‘if’. They’re both standing next to a hole in the wal. Well, a fancy cube-shaped indent. Fancy in that it can produce food from thin air. Shane watches Ryan fiddle with the control panel. Shane replies, ‘Pretty sure.’

Ryan’s quiet for a beat, then says, ‘I can figure something else out if you-’

‘Ryan. It’s OK.’

Nervous energy radiates from Ryan. He looks at Shane, then back at the machine, then back at Shane. Shane, who’s getting hungrier by the minute, says, ‘It’s not exactly sacred. If you screw it up then it's no big deal.'

Ryan takes a deep, steady breath, then presses a few buttons. The machine whirs, and a light on the wall flashes three times. Then, a single piece of dry toast materialises.

Ryan looks at Shane, shoulders drawn taught in anticipation. Shane takes the toast. It’s a little lighter than he usually has it, and dry as hell. When he’d tried to explain butter to Ryan, all he’d gotten was a horrified look in response. When you get down to it, milking the teat of an animal and churning it into a solid mass is a little gross. After that, he’d asked for coffee. As it turns out, the disdain Ryan has for alcohol also encompasses caffeine. Shane concludes that the people on Ryan’s homeworld must have some awful parties. He takes a bite. It’s..well, it’s dry toast.

‘Hmm. This is...pretty good.’ Which is only a slight bending of the truth.

Ryan relaxes. ‘You think so?’

‘Yeah. It’s a great first attempt.’

Ryan’s smile is worth a mouthful of dry toast.

They head over to a large, communal table. There are a few that were clearly designed for aliens. One has a seat so high that Shane - in all his eight feet glory - would struggle to get onto. Another has some funky looking back grooves. He really, _really_ , wants to know which one Ryan would use. Shane finds a one that has a normal enough seat and a decent backrest

While Shane eats, Ryan leafs through the book. Shane contemplates introducing Ryan to sticky tabs and post-it notes. (He has yet to see the alien write anything down physically.) He’s holding the book so that it’s angled away from Shane. He stares at the human for a solid ten seconds, then looks back down at the book. He sneaks another glance. 

Shane knows a burning question when he sees one, so when he finishes his toast he asks, ‘Ryan, buddy, what's up?’

‘I have a few questions. Concerning your anatomy.’

Shane clears his throat. At least the alien has _some_ tact. ‘Right. Go on.’

‘Specifically about this organ,’ he turns the book around. On the page is a diagram of a uterus. ‘This is for reproduction, right?’

‘Yeah, it’s for, like, gestation?’ (Shane almost failed high school biology. He’s not the man to explain all this shit.)

He nods to himself, ‘So humans are mammals.’

‘Yeah..? Did you not figure that out?’

‘I had my suspicions. You have to admit, it's a little hard to tell. Where is it in the body?’

Shane points to his gut. ‘ It’s in there. Somewhere.’

‘Huh. Interesting. Can I take some more scans?’

‘Why?’

‘I just want to see how it works. It won't be invasive, I promise. Figuring out how human bodies work is an important part of the investigative process.’

Shane sighs, then clears his throat. ‘I’m a- I don’t have one. A uterus, I mean.’ He almost says, ‘‘I’m a guy’’. The last thing he wants is to impose a binary concept of gender on a cosmic tourist. (Fuck, should he have asked for Ryan’s pronouns? Did he choose a male body because he identifies that way? Or is that not the case? Fuck. So many questions.)

‘Oh,’ says Ryan, a little disappointed.

‘I mean, it was a fifty-fifty chance you’d pick up someone with one. Hang on, pass the book over.’ He flicks through until he finds a diagram of a penis, in all its weird, flaccid glory. ‘I have one of these. The accompanying internal organs are different.’

‘Wait, so this is for excreting waste and reproduction?’ He scrunches his nose. ‘That’s...bizarre.’

‘Hey, look, I didn’t design it. And also, for future reference, on Earth it’s considered, uh, gauche, to discuss organs over food.’

'Oh, I'm sorry. I'll have to remember that.'

At the mere implication of more time spent together, Shane's stomach does a flip. 'We should, uh, look over that research- about humans?'

‘What? Oh, right.’

When they get up to leave, Ryan takes the book with him. Something tells Shane that he's going to have to fight tooth and nail to get it back.

  


***

  


They head to the observation room. Shane’s glad that at least one room on the ship has a comfy sofa. Ryan has a tablet at the ready. He types away while Shane opens the presentation.

‘Is that for note taking?’

‘Of course.’

‘You’d better watch out. There’ll be a test at the end,’ he cracks his knuckles. ‘OK, so. This is a crash course in humanity. To understand where we’re at now you kind of have to know everything else — at least on a basic level. It’s pretty much impossible to tell a unified history of the world, for obvious reasons. There are people groups that didn’t interact for most of recorded history because of the sheer, insurmountable distance between them. Well, used to be, I guess. Now we have planes and things.’ Oh God, he’s already rambling. ‘So uh, yeah.'

He starts with agriculture, because there’s no better place to start than Mesopotamia. He had considered starting with monkey learning how to walk upright, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. In hindsight, he should have put an evolutionary tree somewhere. When writing it he tried to focus on technological development, and how it occurred differently in different places.

The more he talks, the closer Ryan gets. It’s subtle, at first; shifting closer bit by bit, ostensibly to get a better view of the laptop’s small screen. Slowly, the inches between them disappear. When their shoulders bump together, Shane stutters. Then, he leans closer to Ryan. The whole situation reminds him of high school. As an awkward teenager, Shane had gone on his fair share of ‘study dates’. Most of them ended with Shane as oblivious towards dating as he’d been before.

When it’s over, Shane turns to Ryan. The alien has his head in his palm, his expression unreadable.

‘So, what do you think?’

‘I liked how informative it was.’

‘I don’t do things by halves. And uh, I meant about us. About humanity.

‘Well...you certainly went to war a lot.’

‘Yeah. We still do. Unfortunately.’ He’d only mentioned a few by name. World War One and Two were unavoidable. He tried to include as much about technology as he could, and it happens that a lot of technology has been developed to murder people.

There’s a pregnant pause, and Shane’s heart starts to race. He’d included a myriad of awful things he’d had to include out of necessity: war; slavery; nuclear weapons. There’s no way he could talk about humanity as a whole without mentioning its more grievous actions. Anything less than a cursory mention would just be wrong. The longer the alien goes without speaking, the more Shane’s stomach twist into knots.

‘Ryan?’ His voice shakes. Fuck, is this how it goes? Ryan’s going to go back to the Council and have Earth quarantined off. However many centuries from now, human will venture out into the stars, only to be met with total silence. Because of Shane, Fucking fuck.

‘Look, this is what I meant when I said humans aren’t ready. We manage to fuck everything up, like, all of the time and we’d mess this up big time. We’re just-’

Ryan puts a hand on his arm. ‘Hey, calm down. I’m not making a total judgement right away. It’s going to be a while before I send off my findings. I’m just- it’s a lot of information to process. I need some time. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’

Shane says nothing. He closes the laptop and looks out into the endless voice of space. Wherever the Commonwealth is, however many people are a part of it, they’re out there, judging humanity. He does _not_ want to be the reason that humans don’t get to go out into space. At some point during his twenties, he realised that having a large-scale impact on the world is rarely ever a good thing. The only good, world-wide contribution he could make is invented a vaccination or curing a disease, and neither of those are going to happen anytime soon.

He tries to reason with himself: regardless of his involvement, this entire situation would have happened anyway. A judgement would be passed, but one made by someone with little to no knowledge of humanity. He’s...he’s doing a good thing, right?

Ryan’s hand slides up his arm and onto his shoulder. The alien’s thumb rests against his neck, and he wonders if Ryan can feel his heartbeat quicken. ‘Shane. It’s going to be OK.’

In the back of his throat, Shane makes a vaguely assenting noise. Ryan pulls Shane towards him in a hug. The human’s head comes to rest on the crown of Ryan’s. It’s funny: Shane can’t remember the last time someone held him.

‘If it’s too much then we can stop. I can...I’ll get my information some other way.’

Shane snorts. It’s a lie, but at least it’s a nice lie. ‘And then what? Are you gonna send me back?’

Anxiety pools in his gut. He can’t spend the rest of his days working in a cubicle, knowing that there’s intelligent life out there. He can’t pretend to forget.

‘I’m not gonna make you leave if you don’t want to.’

‘OK.’

He takes a deep breath, holding it for seven seconds, then he exhales for ten. He does this again and again. He keeps telling himself that it’ll be OK. A small part of him feels like an idiot. He’s a grown ass man. He shouldn’t be falling apart like this.

Ryan glances at him. ‘You do want to come back, right?’

‘Of course.’

Ryan takes a hold of the pendant. He tugs it gently.

‘Then you should keep this. You know, it looks good on you.’

Shane sits up straight. The pendant slips from Ryan's grasp. The alien looks a little disappointed. ‘Yeah?’ Shane breathes.

‘Yeah. And it could come in handy in about two weeks. We don’t have to talk about the judgement, or anything like that. But I want you to be here.’

‘That would- yeah, that- really?’ Smooth, Madej. Real smooth.

Ryan blinks and Shane thinks, idly, ‘Were his eyelashes always that long?

‘Shane, I want to see you again, OK? I like talking to you.’

‘I...I like you too.’ Wait no. He’s blushing. Shit. To say something like that, he must really be out of his mind.

Ryan smiles, and his entire face lights up in joy. ‘I thought so.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i failed biology in high school. i don't know shit about anatomy - human other otherwise.


End file.
